ure, when informed that you had gazed upon it with
delight, or rather with adoration; that you had suspended it in your
Cell, and that you addressed your supplications to no other Saint.
Will this discovery make me still more regarded as an object of
suspicion? Rather should it convince you how pure is my affection, and
engage you to suffer me in your society and esteem. I heard you daily
extol the praises of my Portrait: I was an eyewitness of the
transports, which its beauty excited in you: Yet I forbore to use
against your virtue those arms, with which yourself had furnished me.
I concealed those features from your sight, which you loved
unconsciously. I strove not to excite desire by displaying my charms,
or to make myself Mistress of your heart through the medium of your
senses. To attract your notice by studiously attending to religious
duties, to endear myself to you by convincing you that my mind was
virtuous and my attachment sincere, such was my only aim. I succeeded;
I became your companion and your Friend. I concealed my sex from your
knowledge; and had you not pressed me to reveal my secret, had I not
been tormented by the fear of a discovery, never had you known me for
any other than Rosario. And still are you resolved to drive me from
you? The few hours of life which yet remain for me, may I not pass
them in your presence? Oh! speak, Ambrosio, and tell me that I may
stay!'

This speech gave the Abbot an opportunity of recollecting himself. He
was conscious that in the present disposition of his mind, avoiding her
society was his only refuge from the power of this enchanting Woman.

'You declaration has so much astonished me,' said He, 'that I am at
present incapable of answering you. Do not insist upon a reply,
Matilda; Leave me to myself; I have need to be alone.'

'I obey you--But before I go, promise not to insist upon my quitting
the Abbey immediately.'

'Matilda, reflect upon your situation; Reflect upon the consequences of
your stay. Our separation is indispensable, and we must part.'

'But not to-day, Father! Oh! in pity not today!'

'You press me too hard, but I cannot resist that tone of supplication.
Since you insist upon it, I yield to your prayer: I consent to your
remaining here a sufficient time to prepare in some measure the
Brethren for your departure. Stay yet two days; But on the third,' ...
(He sighed involuntarily)--'Remember, that on the third we must part
for ev